Thick fluffy snowflakes cloud the night sky. My son, hopeful for a snow day and school cancellation the next morning, wishes the spring snow to continue, thicker and colder. Wistfully remembering my early season snow excitement last November and December, I grouse at the April nuisance that postpones the long awaited end of winter. Morning yields over one inch of slushy, white mush on the ground. Daytime highs in the 50s melt the offensive layer with spring promise of greenery and warmth in the annual exchange for frigid temperatures and stark vegetation.

Two days later, the sun warms life to a record seventy plus degrees. Neighbors show themselves outside for the first time in months, greeting fellow around-the-block-walkers with mutually complimentary weather acknowledgements. Children assemble in yards and driveways after the indoor play season. The little boy down the street looks smaller, until I realize that the toddler in the driveway is last year’s baby, and the preschooler peddling his wheels toward me is last year’s toddler. New strollers in the neighborhood identify expanded families. Empty nesters proudly parade a new puppy. Sadly, we circle the long block with one less dog this spring.

Winter and spring.

Growth and change.

Life and death.

Seasons of our lives.

[Originally posted April 2015]